


Red Lantern Light

by Naemi



Category: The Invitation (2015)
Genre: Drama, F/M, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 13:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: She's alive. They're alive. Maybe that's all that matters. Maybe it matters nothing at all.





	Red Lantern Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoundandColor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundandColor/gifts).



> Dear SoundandColor, I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted to see. It simply happened; there was nothing I could do :o)

A dozen rays of light, creeping in through unseen gaps in the shutters and heralding the late afternoon, turn the hardwood floor into a sea of gold and red. Kira draws her towel tighter around her chest and watches the almost iridescent specks absentmindedly as she pads to the large bedroom mirror. Within the glass, the play of colors not only surrounding but dancing over her reflection appears like a hundred distant fires, and a sudden anxiety, as unwarranted as it is unwanted, chills Kira's spine.

She shakes her head, but the feeling of impending doom won't be expelled; instead, it manifests as a quiver that ripples through her whole body. Her gaze is fixed on those strangely floating lights, her sight narrowed to non-existent flames. Instinctively, Kira rubs her arms to chase away the goosebumps. Before her mind's eye, shadows conquer what little light is left, and within them, she sees the moving forms of people without faces but with sparkling white dots where eyes and teeth should be: expressions of bewilderment—or worse.

A hand touches Kira's naked shoulder softly, and startled, she gasps. Her vision clears up again; the strange images fade. Instead, she sees sunlight dancing over Will's reflection in the mirror and watches him kiss away a lingering drop of water on the side of her neck. He whispers something Kira can't understand, but she relaxes. Running his hands down her arms to wrap them around her waist, Will kisses her once more, presses their bodies together, and with the third kiss, a ghostly touch trailing the nape of Kira's neck, she's fully returned to the here and now.

She leans back into his soothing presence and murmurs, “I'm not sure what’s on your mind right now, but I have the feeling it'll make us late.” It's not a complaint; she smiles at Will's reflection, and Will's reflection smiles back at her.

“Nothing much,” he says with a small shrug. “Maybe soothe the anxiety a little?”

Kira forgets how to breathe for a second until she realizes he's not talking about her vision, can't know about it, but about his own demons that he—they—are about to face. She exhales slowly and watches her lips curl into a smirk.

“We have about ten minutes,” she informs him with a glance to the wall clock. “You think that's enough?”

“You know, I'm not exactly twenty anymore,” Will replies with a boyish grin, “but … it's plenty of time for what I have in mind.”

The next thing Kira knows she's lying on their kingsize, flat on her back, and Will is between her legs placing little kisses on her thighs. A high-pitched giggle leaves her mouth, partly because the previous tension has fallen off of her and the weight on her shoulders that she couldn't explain is gone, but mostly because Will's touch tickles her. She wants to clasp a hand over her mouth to hush that silly sound, but it feels so good to just let go of everything, and so she lets her voice run free.

Kira can feel the vibration of Will's soft laughter against her skin more than she can hear it. In that moment, she feels blessed, almost divine, and she’s convinced that no evil in the world—imagined or otherwise—would ever dare reach for either of them.

~ ~ ~

The light creeping in through the outside blinds is persistent, a harbinger of a new day and maybe a new life. Kira trails her gaze over the specks on the dirty linoleum floor and to the tiny mirror hanging above an old, broken TV. The room smells of stale cigarette smoke and failed existences, and this morning, she identifies with the latter, although it's not true: She's alive. They're alive. Maybe that's all that matters. Maybe it matters nothing at all.

Kira blinks her tired eyes into focus. On the bed beside her lies Will, wide awake, as his breathing reveals, and maybe, Kira should look at him, finally spare him a tiny gaze at least, but she can't bring herself to do it. She's grateful he hasn't tried to make her yet, but it's only a matter of time.

They've hardly shared more than a few words since they witnessed the Hollywood Hills coming to a ghostly, red life, and by now, the silence is like a corporeal companion, heavy as lead and coppery as blood.

Upon checking in to the motel halfway between the horror of the Hills and the uncertainy of home, Will had asked if she'd prefer separate rooms. When Kira had cut her eyes to him, wondering if her general demeanor was that obvious or if it was him who wanted solitude, the look on his face had made her say no. Being alone with her racing heart and sweaty palms was a thought hard to bear, anyway.

Between the morning light dotting every surface with orange (which brings back the memories not only of the Hills but of the premonition Kira had only hours before the events unfolded) and the silence full of fear and doubts, Kira feels lost in time and space, as if she'd somehow fallen into some weird wormhole and gotten out on the worst end possible.

The life she used to have is gone, the life she'd planned to have crumbled, and all that's left within the debris is the sound of her own blood rushing through her veins that nearly drowns out Will’s occasional breathless sighs.

Will shifts, and the saggy mattress shifts with him.

Kira closes her eyes but opens them again when all she sees is tears and blood. The nauseating smells assault her nose, and even though they're commemorative ghosts, they almost make her feel sick to the point where she wants to spit it all out: the pain, the fear, the anger. She shakes her head as if to shake away that whole night, but like the twenty or so times before, it's to no avail.

Forces Kira never believed existed seem to tear at her, determined to rip her apart not just at the seems, but thoroughly. Part of her wants nothing more than to reach for Will, to lose herself in his soothing presence like she did only yesterday, but another part, shaken and traumatized into believing that nothing in the world is ever as it seems, is adamant that this man right beside her is the source of all evil.

The thought is hard to fight, although Kira knows she's overreacting. It's far from fair to think of Will any lesser now: He did all he could to save her, and had she believed him, trusted him earlier, none of this would've happened to her—them—in the first place. But it is what it is; shock knows no logic.

Tears well in Kira's eyes when she realizes that the man she used to love is as dead to her as those strangers she'd met for the first time tonight. Sure, he isn't zipped up in a body bag—but right now, he might as well be. Hardly anything about Will’s presence is comforting anymore, except maybe the way he leaves her be without leaving her alone.

Kira knows she'll heal, but she also knows it will take time to piece herself back together. And maybe, one day, she'll be able to also piece the image of a future with Will back together.

But for now, the dream of _us_ has turned to a sculpture carved in memories and red lantern light.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit** , who also made sure all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> [Visit my LJ-community [Bunny Bash](http://bunnybash.livejournal.com) to leave me a prompt at any time.]
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


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